Worthy
by PrincessVamp
Summary: Darien comes to ask Kenji Tsukino a very important question. A quick look at the feelings of the man who loves Serena so very much.


"In her eyes I'm Prince Charming, but to him I'm just some fella . . . Riding in and stealing Cinderella . . ." -Chuck Wicks, _"Stealing Cinderella"_

Disclaimer: I do not own either Sailor Moon or the rights to Chuck Wick's song.

_**Worthy**_

by PrincessVamp

* * *

I knew why he had come. As soon as I opened the door to Darien Chiba and saw his face, nervous but determined, the realization struck me like a blow.

I set my jaw and widened the door a fraction to let him come in. I may know why he was here, but by god, I wouldn't make this easy for him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Irene start downstairs to welcome the boy, and I shook my head minutely to stop her descent before Darien noticed. No. I wouldn't let her smooth his ruffled feathers— she had such a motherly way to her, always able to pick up the slightest mood in that boy— but this was for me to do. She bit her lip but backed up and disappeared into the bedroom. Good.

We stood there in the doorway for a moment, my arms folded and face impassive. "Mr. Tsukino," Darien began, and clenched his fist as his voice cracked slightly. Despite myself, I felt slight approval at his determination. He wasn't deterred by my obvious disapproval. I inhaled sharply and eyed him carefully. Regardless, I knew he would never be good enough for my little girl. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Sir, may I speak with you in private?"

With a jerk of my head I invited him into the sitting room. I settled into the couch and he perched on the edge of the loveseat. I remained silent, giving him time to get his bearings, and also to see what I saw every day. This was the house that saw Serena grow from infant to beautiful young woman. On that worn rocking chair her mother rocked her to sleep for countless hours, on that chair we doctored her skinned knees time and time again. The creak of the front door reflected the numerous times Serena slammed it on her daily frantic run to school. The passage of time was reflected within the frames of numerous pictures scattered throughout the room— portraits of us as a family, but also snapshots of her, my little girl. From playing dress-up to hugging her little brother; from learning to ride a bike to experiencing Disneyland for the first time: it was all in this family room.

The photos seemed to paralyze Darien, familiar to him as they were. He stared at one in particular, eyes slightly unfocused as he twisted his hands in his lap. The picture was one of my favorites. Serena had just turned eighteen; it was of her birthday celebration, and she was in the midst of giving me a spontaneous hug when Irene captured the moment. In Serena's face showed the same joy that had been there her whole life; there truly was no one more giving and loving than my daughter.

Darien seemed to draw strength from that photo. His hands ceased their trembling and he finally looked directly into my eyes. I tensed slightly in anticipation.

"Mr. Tsukino," he drew a breath, and I met his eyes unflinchingly. His voice was firm and confident for what he said next: "I am in love with Serena, and with your permission . . . I am going to marry her."

Now I felt jittery. I quickly stood up and made my way over to the photos of my daughter. I didn't say a word for a good minute, looking them over, and then glanced back at my prospective son-in-law. Darien appeared calm and ready for my judgment. After several long moments, I gently picked up the picture I loved so well, rubbing my thumb along the wooden frame, bracing myself for what would come next.

"As soon as she was placed in my arms, I knew Serena was special," my voice cracked slightly, and I cleared my throat to get rid of the lump that had just mysteriously appeared. I blinked away the moisture that had suddenly accumulated in my eyes and stared at the picture of my happy daughter. "She was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. All parents say that . . . but for her, it was true. She's only ever grown more beautiful, inside and out. There is no one like my daughter." I turned, the photo in my hands, feeling my arms start to tremble. "What makes you think you deserve her?"

Darien moved towards me, reached out and took the picture from my shaking hand, turning it over so he could see. Father and daughter, a happy embrace, the immense look of pride beaming out from the happy papa's face. That photo in hand, he looked into my eyes and gave me the only answer I would have ever accepted.

"I will never deserve her," he told me quietly, dropping his eyes and tracing his finger over Serena's face. "I don't think anyone ever could. But she's chosen me," he looked up at me suddenly, and the love for my daughter was fierce on his face. "She's chosen me, and I will never, ever stop trying to be worthy of her."

He stood, and held out the photo. I grasped it, but he didn't let go. He met my eyes, very seriously. He was so serious, this man whom my daughter loved. Perhaps he was too like her father in that regard."I will never stop trying to make her happy. She's everything I've ever wanted."

Now he released the picture, and I rocked back, my heart twisting in my chest, so bittersweet. "I . . . I give you my permission, Darien," I said, voice raw. "And . . . my blessing."

His face lit, and he stepped forward and grasped my hand in a strong clasp. "Thank you, sir," he said, eyes shining, and then he was gone, nearly running out of my house in his eagerness to ask my beautiful, wonderful daughter for her hand.

I stumbled back onto the couch, and then Irene was by my side, smiling and laughing and weeping a little. "Oh, Kenji," she murmured, pressing a kiss against my cheek. "You are so good."

I slid an arm around my wife's waist, pulling her in to me, and remembered an unforgettable moment, nearly twenty-five years ago, as I asked her father for her hand. Remembered the terror, the elation, the sweaty palms, the pounding heart. Remembered the moment I finally, _finally_, slid a glittering ring onto her finger and saw the utter joy upon her face.

My hand closed over her own, more slender hand, gently rubbing the worn surface of her wedding ring. She smiled and twined her fingers into mine. I let out a tired sigh and rested my lips in her hair.

It was all so very, very worth it.

* * *

The end. Or should I say, the beginning?

Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to pester me for a proposal scene! Reviewers get sent a nervous Darien with an engagement ring!

Lots of love,

Princessvamp


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